Journey Through a Broken Soul
by Nyxelestia
Summary: It's been months since Arthur's kidnapping, and Merlin has spent that time looking for him - and now, worn through from his quest, he's finally found Arthur, a traumatized slave far away from home. The journey home will be a long one, and a healing one.
1. Chapter 01

Written for this prompt on Kink Me Merlin on LiveJournal:

_Arthur/Merlin, Arthur/Other, where Other is a villain. kidnapping, hurt/comfort, non-con if anon wants to write it._

_A spin on the hurt/comfort rescue fic: Arthur is captured and sold into slavery while everyone believes he's been killed (magic, kidnappers leaving a defaced body in Arthur's clothing, something like that, IDK). Merlin knows better, and hunts Arthur down and rescues him, but finds him broken, abused, violated, and not the prince that Merlin once loved. Refusing to abandon him, Merlin slowly but surely nurses Arthur back to physical and emotional health, then returns him to Camelot for a happy ending._

I have a few chapters up on LJ, so I thought I'd start posting it here. :D Probably not going to be much, if any, smut in this story, but lots of hurt/comfort, and later on, lots of action, too. :)

* * *

**_Warnings/Content:_ Violence, (past) non-con, mental trauma, mentions of slavery.**

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**Journey Through A Broken Soul: Chapter 01**

_You will not find him,_ Gaius had said mournfully as he had watched him pack his things.

_It's hopeless,_ Gwen had choked out through thick tears when she bid Merlin goodbye in the corridor.

_He's dead,_ Uther had said when Merlin came to the prince's room to find the king already there.

And to all of them, Merlin responded with, _Arthur is still alive, and out there. And I will find him._

* * *

It was a long search. For months, for _half a sodding year_, Merlin traversed Albion, looking for his prince, his once and future king. He nearly gave up hope so many times...

But Arthur was alive. He could _feel_ it.

It was after hearing hints of a golden slave in a kingdom far from Camelot, said to have been captured from far away (like Camelot), that he found a solid trail.

And it was only when he ran into the knight-errant Lancelot, shaken by the sight he had seen when he had glimpsed the prince himself that he found Arthur.

But soon, he found out why Lancelot was so shaken - because the Arthur he found was not the Arthur he knew.

This Arthur, the one he found...was broken.

* * *

The brothel owner and her guard stood behind him as another guard unlocked and opened the door to the cell...room.

Inside, the room was small, but lavish, sensual and sexual, sin in every plush pillow and luxurious linen.

Chained by the ankle to the bed was Arthur. He was asleep, exhaustion and fear evident even in his sleeping countenance.

"_Up!_" the brothel owner shouted. Like the dog she had trained the prince to be, Arthur snapped up, before jerking himself to standing. He leaned against the bed post, hurt in a way Merlin could not see, and his head was bowed in fear and submission that only looked unnatural on the Prince.

His heart screamed.

"This one, he's one of my best," the old woman wheezed out. "So - are you gonna take him for the night?"

Merlin ignored her.

Instead, he stepped forward and gently put a finger under Arthur's shaking chin, lifting up his face. "Arthur?" he asked quietly, gently.

For a moment, for one heartbreaking moment, there was _nothing_.

Then...

"Merlin?"

His voice was soft and weak in a way that was just _wrong_ coming from Arthur, but it was still Arthur, and when Merlin nodded, Arthur cried out, and clung onto Merlin, who wrapped his arms around his trembling Arthur, and murmured, "I'm here, it's okay...shh...I'm here, I'm right here..."

"Oi!" The brothel owner shouted, eyes narrowing. "What's all this, then? You said-"

"Shut up," Merlin growled over his shoulder, reserving a timber for her that was worlds away from the one he just used for Arthur. Holding onto Arthur as he turned to the one who did this, he said, "Just shut up-"

"You-"

"-and go to hell!"

When she moved, Merlin's eyes flashed fold, and she and her guards who ran forward were thrown back into the wall with enough force to snap their necks and kill them all instantly.

Arthur, watching them, was trembling in shock, looking between Merlin and the brothel workers.

"...you're magic?" he asked hoarsely.

Turning to face Arthur full on, Merlin nodded. "Yes - but not like the people who captured you. Now come on - Lancelot is waiting for us outside. We need to hurry."

Arthur's clothing was only a pair of thin breeches and a torn up tunic, so Merlin shrugged off his traveling cloak and bundled it around Arthur's painfully thin and weakened form, before leading him outside after enchanting his shackle open.

As they went, Merlin freed every slave within the brothel, and outside, Lancelot was unsurprised by the eruption of sex slaves bursting out the door.

His eyes widened at the sight of Arthur, though, but a quick look from Merlin held him off from nearly assaulting Arthur in his joy to see him.

"We need to get out of here," Merlin said. "We-"

"Hengroen?" Arthur murmured to himself, reaching out a hand to the young horse, who clearly remembered Arthur if the way he pressed his nose against Arthur's hand was anything to go by.

"Yes, Arthur," Merlin said. "Can you mount him?"

Arthur nodded his head, before slowly shaking it instead. "I...I...don't think I will even be able to ride him...after all that I've..."

Merlin nodded understandingly, considering he just pulled Arthur out of a damned _brothel_. He quickly cast a few spells on Arthur and the cloak. Arthur shifted nervously, but didn't try to run from the magic.

"How about now?" Merlin asked.

It worked.

Moments later, Arthur was settling into the horse's probably-familiar support, and Merlin mentally thanked the king for his gift.

Merlin didn't know whether Uther had just pitied Merlin or had desperately hoped, on some level, that Merlin _would_ find find Arthur. But as he had been leaving, in the courtyard, Uther had brought him Arthur's horse, Hengroen. The prized stallion was fast, strong, and young, and was the best of the stable, and had been a gift for Arthur from a visiting prince from another kingdom, expensive and rare as a horse he was. Uther had told him it was for his steadfast loyalty to Arthur, and given him the reins.

He'd seen several knights in the background, and a few of them were glaring at him for taking the king's favor, and the chance to inherit the prized horse, and Merlin knew it could cost Uther dearly in Court to do this.

So he'd bowed deeply, something he rarely did even for the king, and simply said, "Thank you, sire," before he mounted and left, accepting the gift in full.

Seeing Arthur reassured by the horse's presence, Merlin couldn't have been more glad he'd done so.

He mounted the horse behind Arthur, cradling the prince in his arms and legs, and they and Lancelot rode out of the city together.

As they left, Merlin cast a spell on the entire city, unlocking and opening every lock, every knot, every chain, and every shackle in it, freeing all the slaves in it, and animals, livestock, mules, horses - everyone and every thing.

Most of who were freed would probably end up recaptured, he knew that. But many of them would fully escape, and many more would plan and have their resentments fester, tasting freedom before recapture. And if nothing else, it would keep the city too busy dealing with them to notice a few dead bodies in an empty brothel so quickly.

They rode on calmly through the chaos around them, Merlin promising himself that one day, he would come back and make sure _everyone_ involved in Arthur's capture and enslavement would pay for what they did to his prince.

For now, though, he worried about Arthur.

* * *

Merlin, Arthur, and Lancelot rode away from the city at a brisk pace. Merlin cast a few more spells around Arthur to minimize the pain Arthur seemed to be feeling as they sped up, and kept his arms carefully wrapped around him while holding the reins.

They rode for almost half a day before they slowed down and stopped. Arthur had dozed off, somehow, but woke when they halted.

"It was real?" Arthur asked softly as he looked around himself in awe while Merlin helped him down from the saddle.

"Yes," Merlin said, holding his arms open. Arthur fell into Merlin's embrace, and Merlin held him close for a moment, enjoying the simple _feel_ of Arthur against his flesh after going so long without it...ten months was a long, long time.

After a moment, Arthur pulled away, looking around the small clearing nervously.

"It's okay," Merlin said softly, slightly thrown off from having to reassure Arthur, rather than the other way around as was usual between them. "Lancelot is guarding this clearing, and I have spells to alert us if anyone comes near. We'll be all right."

Arthur nodded silently.

Merlin held Arthur's hand in one of his own, using his other hand to cast the spells to set up the camp, fire making itself, bedrolls unrolling side by side, and food being set out for the night.

Lancelot came back and quickly told him all the weak and strong parts of the perimeter, and which direction in run in case of a threat.

Arthur listened closely, the knight inside him reassured by the military routine, the broken man inside him reassured by the safety the planning provided.

"See?" Merlin said, leading Arthur over to sit on the bedding between his and Lancelot's, before sitting on his own. "I told you."

"You're safe now, sire," Lancelot promised, dropping down on Arthur's other side.

"I...I know," Arthur agreed quietly. "You rescued me."

Merlin held his hand tight in his own. "You're our Prince. Expect nothing less."

Arthur smiled hesitantly. "I...I..." He paused, then relaxed and simply settled on, "Thank you."

Lancelot took his other hand and squeezed in response, and with Merlin starting to look over Arthur and his injuries, they settled down for the night.

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**Keep a look out for my other KMM fic, _Primogeniture_, which I should be able to post tomorrow (assuming my cat doesn't eat the computer or anything else similar).**


	2. Chapter 02

**A/N: For those of you that are interested, I have maps to go with the story! :) You can find the links to them in my profile.  
**

The story's overall geography is a mishmash of "Albion 1" and "Albion 2". Basically, a.) Lindsey is in it, which you don't see in Albion 1, and b.) Fortriu is one kingdom, but wartorn enough to warrant a split of "Northern Picts" and "Southern Picts". Don't take any advice from this story for historical accuracy. (Or the show, considering the infamous beer can shot). If you don't like having two maps, I'm mostly leaning on "Albion 2".

The more specific geography of this chapter is based off the next two maps, the Orkney ones. The island-traveling is based off of Orkney Isles, and the towns are drawn loosely from Orkney Cities.

Lastly, for the next few chapters, the geography of the story will be based on the "Fortriu" map.

**Enjoy!**

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**Journey Through a Broken Soul, Chapter 2:**

The next morning, Merlin woke up slowly, blinking in the sunlight to be met with Arthur's blue eyes staring right back at him.

"I'd forgotten how you looked when you slept," Arthur said, softly. He was curled in on himself, slightly, though he had one arm wrapped around his own waist so his hand could cover Merlin's hand...apparently, at some point in the night, Merlin's body, acting on muscle memory, had wrapped an arm around Arthur to pull him close. Arthur didn't seem to mind, so for a few more minutes, Merlin didn't move.

Eventually, he wakened fully to realize Lancelot was moving about around the fire behind him. He had a few branches over a few small logs, and breakfast was warm bread with cheese melted on it.

Arthur's eyes fluttered in delight when he bit in, and Merlin grinned at Lancelot, who smiled, blushing slightly, before digging into his own breakfast.

"So," Lancelot said, unrolling a large map - all of Albion - and laying it on the ground. They'd collected a lot of maps over their journey. "What's the plan going to be?"

All three of them knelt by the map. Arthur ran his fingers around the edge of it, studying the map carefully. But, he made no comment on where they should go, so he and Lancelot did most of the planning.

They had just left Stromness, on the Mainland of Orkney, and were now several miles east of it, and Lancelot put a finger there, saying, "We know where we are..." He placed another finger on the Isle just below the Mainland, Hoy. "And where we need to focus on going, for today."

"I can get us to Hoy, if you don't mind stopping by Graemsay," Merlin said, pointing to the tiny island between the larger of the two. "But we'll need to find a boat from Hoy to mainland Albion."

"Our best bet is to go through Lyness, and get to the Isle Fara," Lancelot said. "I'm not even sure if there are any boats from Hoy to Albion, at least any we can afford that won't kill us on the trip. But from Fara, or the South Walls, we can barter our way onto a ship to Albion. We'll land in Fortriu, and work our way from there."

"Here to the shore of Hoy is about a day," Merlin said, studying the map carefully. "There to Lyness is another, and from there to one of the neighboring Isles is another."

"It should take about four or five days from there to Fortriu," Lancelot said, studying the north-most end of Albion. "So this will take about a week or so."

"And from Fortriu, on?" Merlin asked.

"There are a few port towns in Fortriu where we might land," Lancelot said. "So we won't be able to plan from there until we know our path from Hoy."

Merlin nodded, and with a flick of his fingers, the map was rolled up and put away.

"How are we going to get from here to Hoy?" Arthur asked, almost childlike curiosity in his voice.

"Magic," Merlin said simply.

Arthur gave him an odd look, but nodded, accepting the answer.

In the mean time, Lancelot tended to his own things while Merlin checked over Arthur's injuries again, to be sure before they left. All the sores around his wrists and ankles from the cuffs and shackles were coated in fresh healing salve and re-bandaged. All his bruises had healing oil rubbed into them, and the cuts were tended to carefully. The lashes on Arthur's back were tricky, made trickier by Arthur's two cracked ribs. But both sets of injuries were poulticed and bandaged with utmost care. A few gulps of strong ale and a few drops of a strong, magically enhanced potion for pain, and Arthur was ready to go.

The entire time Merlin was working on him, Arthur's eyes were lazily focused on Lancelot's sword. Lancelot noticed by the time Merlin was helping Arthur dress in his meager clothes.

"Sire?" Lancelot asking, hesitantly holding out the sword to Arthur.

Merlin watched closely as Arthur took the sword and held it aloft in awe, standing by Hengroen, keeping a hand on the horse's flank for support.

"I...haven't held...held a sword...since the day I was captured," Arthur said, slowly moving the sword through the air.

Merlin's blood froze.

Arthur had been playing with toy swords since before the prince could remember. He was handling the real thing practically still in childhood. All his life, he made a strong point of practicing his sword just a little bit _every single day_, even if it was only a few minutes in his chambers in between other things he had to do. Practically the only time he never did this was if he was unconscious. Arthur had used a sword nearly every day of his life that he remembered for nearly the last decade. For him to go ten months without even _holding_ a sword...

The bastards who captured Arthur were going to pay _dearly_ for this when Merlin found them.

He looked up in time to see Arthur cry out in frustration when he was forced to lower the sword, still too weak to keep it up for long.

"It's okay-"

"It's not okay!" Arthur shouted, startling Hengroen and whirling to face Merlin, a flash of frustrated anger on his face before it crumbled. "It's not okay," he repeated desperately.

At a slight loss, Merlin took Arthur's free hand in his, trying to think quickly how best to pacify him.

"I..."

They both looked to see Lancelot standing there almost nervously. "I would be willing to train with you, sire...to help you regain your strength."

Arthur grinned, and Merlin shot the knight-errant a grateful look. When Arthur went back to lifting the sword in careful, structured motions - recognizable from the squires' training routine in Camelot - Merlin walked over to Lancelot.

"Thank you," Merlin said sincerely. "I...he..."

Lancelot nodded understandingly, a look of dark speculation crossing his face as the two men watched Arthur peripherally.

"I am not a man to act on anger," Lancelot said. "And I do not take vengeance lightly. But this..." He turned to Merlin. "When you find the people who did this to him, let me know."

Merlin nodded. "I will."

* * *

They packed up and left as soon as Arthur could no longer lift the sword, and made their way quickly to the shore.

When they reached the beach, the horses' hooves skidding on the rocks, Arthur asked, "How is magic going to get us from here to Hoy?"

Merlin smiled, and held out his hand, focusing on the water ahead of them. Soon, a wide strip of water, almost twice as wide as the most traveled roads of Camelot, was simmering, almost glowing, in the bright sunlight, and it was still despite the waves and currents on either side of it. Arthur frowned on confusion as they rode forward.

His eyes blew open in wonder, however, when instead of trotting _into_ the water, the horses kept going _on_ the water.

Turning in the saddle to try and face Merlin, he asked, "You're...we're _walking on water_?"

"Well, the horses are, but yes, we are," Merlin said. The path would waver somewhat, but it remained solid. It was a bit like riding on a long raft.

"Can I...?"

Merlin pulled the horse to a stop, and got down, standing on the water. It felt like sand, and his feet did sink lightly. But it was never deeper than the soles of his boots, and it would only be like walking through puddles in terms of how wet he got.

Arthur jumped down and took several hesitant steps, before laughing as he ran, ran and ran, all the way to Lancelot's horse several yards ahead.

He stopped, already breathing heavily, eyes shut in content when Merlin caught up to them, Lancelot jumping down with worry as he watched Arthur.

Sensing their worry, he opened his eyes, smiled, and said simply, "I haven't been able to run in a long time, either...I ran down the lengths of a few streets the one time I managed to escape in the first month...but other than that..."

Ten months in tight captivity had severely weakened him. And nine months since he had been able to simply _run_.

Merlin knew this journey was going to be an exercise in restraint, that he was going to frequently have to stop himself from simply running off to track down the rogue sorcerers who had done this and inflict on them ten times the pain Arthur had suffered since his capture.

They went another mile walking, but then Arthur grew too weak, at which point they rode the rest of the way. The path continued all the way to the Isle Graemsay, where they stopped for lunch. From there, they continued on in the same manner, until they reached Hoy in the late afternoon.

Feeling Arthur's exhaustion, despite having ridden a horse for most of the time, Merlin called a halt to their procession.

"We'll rest here," Merlin declared, once they were on the sands of Hoy's shores. "And continue on tomorrow."

They set up camp, and Arthur was asleep as soon as soon as he was laying down on his bedroll.

"Is there anyway you can help him, to give him back his strength?" Lancelot asked quietly as the sun set. They were in the sand, Arthur laid out between them and the fire. "Magically?"

Merlin sighed. "Theoretically? Yes. But it would be temporary, and his body may not react well to it. It would fade, and not only would he not be any better, but if he did nothing to work on his strength in the mean time, he could end up worse off. His best bet is to work to gain it naturally. Magic...it can only go so far. And it fades."

"But your healing spells-"

"Work _with_ the body," Merlin said. "But the body has a fantastic capability to heal on its own. All my magic does is speed up the healing process, and hold him together on the outside in the mean time. The actual healing...that's mostly him."

Lancelot nodded in understanding. "He's...I will help him get better, with my full heart."

Merlin smiled. "Good."

* * *

The next day, they continued on their way. They stopped again in Lyness, getting some warm stew for lunch in an inn, there, and getting some more supplies. Lancelot stayed with Arthur and the horses on the outskirts of town while Merlin bought a proper set of clothes for Arthur, chain mail, and a light sword, along with a new blanket to replace Lancelot's tattered one, and a new traveling cloak for himself.

"...how can you afford that?" Arthur asked in surprise when Merlin set everything out by where they were.

"Odd work while traveling and some money from your father," Merlin said. Two days out of Camelot, when Merlin had been looking for a needle to sew up a tear in his shirt, he'd found the satchel of money in Hengroen's saddlebag. "He gave me some with Hengroen when I left. Along the way, well...when I was far away enough from Camelot, it was safe for me to reveal my magic, at least when I wasn't using my real name. I'd do odd jobs with magic, and...well, with magic, there's a lot I can do, so I got a lot done by trading my service for what I needed." He pointed to the sword and chainmail. "I fixed the blacksmith's anvil for these, and almost a year's worth of broken tools." He pointed to the clothes. "I repaired a spinning wheel." And the blanket, and cloak. "And I cured the shopkeeper's two children of a headcold."

Arthur shook his head ruefully as he studied Merlin, before he frowned as he looked at the sword and chainmail. "What are...?"

"The Northern and Southern Picts were...very tense, on our way here," Lancelot answered. "They likely are at war, by now. The area will be strife with conflict, and war bandits seeking to take advantage of the situation."

"Besides, it's common sense," Merlin said.

"And the sword?" Arthur said.

"How else are you supposed to train?" Merlin asked innocently.

Arthur blinked in surprise, before he choked out a laugh, and started lifting it like before.

* * *

There was a whole series of large rafts from Hoy to Fara, the water fairly calm and still between the two shores, so barter was cheap for that ride, the distance being too long for Merlin to be certain that he could maintain the spell to let them ride the way, themselves. They made it to Fara, but it was dark by then, so they settled in for another night of camping.

But that night...

Merlin frowned as he was woken up in the middle of the night, but it grew into near alarm when he saw Arthur sitting up on his bedroll, his arms wrapped around himself, staring into the nothingness of the forest...terror in his eyes.

"Arthur?" He cried out, panicking. Lancelot, light sleeper that he was, woke up groggily, saw Arthur, and snapped up instantly, hand already gripping the sword beside him.

But then they both noticed that Arthur hadn't responded to either of them.

When Merlin touched his shoulder, though, Arthur reacted.

He screamed and scrambled back several paces, staring at Merlin in fear, whimpering. _Whimpering._

"Arthur?" Merlin tried again gently, crouching before the prince as he would a spooked animal or small child. He held out an open hand carefully, a peaceful gesture. "Arthur, it's me, Merlin. You're safe...it was only a dream." Because that must've been what happened, a nightmare.

"N-no," he stammered out, breaths evening out. He kept a wary eye on Merlin and his hand, and Lancelot's protective stance over them both, but didn't come any nearer. "It happened...it was real...it-"

"-was in the past," Merlin murmured soothingly.

Arthur continued to sit there, trembling. His arms, supporting him up, were shaking so bad Merlin was worried he would fall and hurt himself more.

Hurt himself _more_ - that barely seemed possible.

"You're okay," Merlin said. "You're here in camp with me and Lancelot on a port isle. We left that brothel behind days ago."

Arthur shut his eyes, pained by the memories.

"Arthur?" Merlin asked again, offering his hand again when Arthur opened his eyes.

He slowly reached out and took Merlin's hand. He squeezed, but did no more.

"...it's like it's still happening," he murmured, before looking up at Merlin, desperation in his eyes. "Why does it feel like it's still happening?"

Merlin sat down in front of Arthur, never letting go of his hand, and even Lancelot sat off by Arthur's side, far enough for Arthur to feel safe while close enough to be reassuring.

"Because it is, but only in your mind, in your dreams," Merlin said. He squeezed Arthur's hand tightly, and he squeezed back even tighter. It was painful, but the look on Arthur's face at the gesture kept him from saying a word.

Arthur nodded gruffly, once, at the words, but otherwise didn't seem reassured.

"You can be scared," Merlin said. "Everyone is."

"I _can't_," Arthur said, shutting his eyes, terror giving over to fear and frustration. "I'm...I'm the...the Crown Prince...of Camelot. I'm...brave. Always. I'm supposed to be..."

"Bravery is not the absence of fear, but the defiance of it," Merlin said, reaching out and taking Arthur's other hand in his own. "You can be afraid and still be Crown Prince of Camelot."

Arthur closed his eyes, his chest shaking.

"I don't want to terrified of my damn memories!" he cried out. "I...I hate it."

"But it's not going to go away, sire," Lancelot said.

"We're here for you," Merlin said. "Promise, we won't leave."

Arthur slowly looked up through his lashes. "Promise?"

Merlin smiled. "You're stuck with us, I'm afraid."

Arthur smiled, hesitantly, before his face fell flat.

"Arthur?" Merlin asked, worried about the way Arthur wouldn't look at him, the way he swallowed...he was trying to say something.

"I..."

Arthur looked up again. His hands squeezed tight, nearly breaking Merlin's bones.

"I...I'm scared."

Merlin rubbed his thumbs over Arthur's. "I know. I'm here. We're here. We're all here."

Arthur's chest heaved in one single, dry sob, before he finally let himself fall into Merlin's soft embrace.

* * *

**A/N: Comments are Love!**


	3. Chapter 03

**Journey Through A Broken Soul - Chapter 03**

* * *

The next morning, Arthur kept his head down, refusing to look at either of them head on. For now, Merlin and Lancelot let him have this retreat without fuss.

Arthur mounted the horse, wincing, his ribs still tender, and rested his arm close to his body.

Otherwise, he seemed...determined, at least. Though the chainmail turned out to be too heavy for his fractured ribs to handle, right now, he stubbornly insisted on wearing the sword as he rode, even though he wouldn't be able to use it if the situation arose like that. Lancelot had given Merlin a curious look as he helped Arthur belt the sword around his waist, but he then looked at Arthur's expression and nodded. He understood.

Good, because Merlin didn't.

They made it to a southern port of Fara, and found the smallest vessel there, and found there was still room for the three of them.

"I ain't to be mindin' takin' you to Albion," the ship's captain said. "But not till tomorrow, or the day after. Word says a storm's comin' in."

Lancelot gave Merlin a look, and Arthur mirrored it, though in a rather confused and speculative manner.

"If I can clear the weather, will you take us?" Merlin asked.

"And with our horses free?" Lancelot added. Merlin gave him an almost alarmed glance, but Lancelot was focused on the captain. Well, he did have more bartering experience...

The captain laughed. "Clear the weather?"

"I'm a sorcerer," Merlin said simply. Arthur seemed to choke at that. He was still trying to get over the 'Merlin had magic' thing.

The captain eyed him warily. "I don't know much n'bout magic, but messing with nature...I think tha's powerful stuff, innit?"

He didn't seem to believe Merlin could do it.

Merlin nodded. "It takes powerful magic. I'm a powerful sorcerer."

The man laughed, eying Merlin derisively. "_You_?"

"Me," Merlin said. "Well?"

The man laughed, pointing towards the low, dark clouds.

"You can clear this up, you _and_ your horses can come for free!" the man said, laughing.

Less than an hour later later, he stared dumbfounded as Merlin, Lancelot, and Arthur led the two horses up the plank and onto the ship in the light of the bright, glimmering sun.

* * *

Within a few hours of boarding the ship, Arthur and Lancelot amused and worried themselves as they stood on either side of Merlin as he was bent over the rails, puking up his lunch into the ocean.

"_Flying_ is easier!" Merlin declared after he put a spell on himself to settle his stomach, which didn't appear to help as much as Merlin wanted it to.

"Can you fly?" Arthur asked.

He wisely didn't comment when Merlin's place at the rail was taken by a sea gull glaring at him.

Lancelot laughed, looking at the gull as Merlin spread his wings and took off. The captain and a few other passengers nearby gaped as Merlin flew overhead amongst the sails.

Arthur laughed as he watched Merlin move. It wasn't exactl graceful, but Merlin still looked smooth and in control as he flew, before he landed and became human again. Arthur smiled.

He didn't care what his heart told him - he resolutely _was not_ envious of the happy and carefree expression on Merlin's face.

* * *

"So," Lancelot said as the crouched over one of their maps after dinner on the ship (and after Merlin had vomited again and ate some bread to settle his stomach). "We're landing in Fortriu, in Thurso. North Fortriu is going to be fine to travel - we can go southeast to Wick and hug the coast from there. It's the Picts territory I'm worried about."

Arthur frowned. "Before I was kidnapped, I knew there was some tension between the Norther and Southern Picts..."

"The tensions's become conflict," Merlin said. "By the time we get there, it will be broken skirmishes at best, and probably outright war."

Arthur bent over the map between Merlin and Lancelot. "Perhaps when we reach Strathpeffer, we can cut to Applecross, sail all around Dal Riata, straight into Strathclyde?"

Merlin looked ill at the thought.

"That would work, but it would take far too long," Lancelot said. "By boat, through all the isles? We'd be stopping all the time going through, or even around. And besides, all the boats in that area go to Eire, first."

"How about riding through Dal Riata?" Merlin asked.

"The isles would slow us down on that front, and the inland parts are due for Pict invasion," Arthur murmured. "If the Picts are on a warpath, that's where they will go - lots of trading and supplies there."

"The Picts are already there," Lancelot said. "And, it's going to be conflict the whole way down - when Uther sent soldiers into Northumbria to search for you, Cendred used it as an excuse to break the peace talks. There isn't war, yet..."

"...but my presence could start one," Arthur finished. "So Pict territory would be walking straight into a near war zone...there has to be some safer places there, _people_ live there!"

"And those people are dying there," Merlin said. "It's too risky - the death toll rises every day this war goes on, and not much of it is just soldiers."

Arthur swallowed grimly, shining eyes fixed on the Pict territory in the map. "Those are innocent people..."

Merlin sighed, resting a gentle hand on Arthur's forearm. "We know. If we thought it would do any good to barge in there and help people, we would." Merlin wouldn't, he wouldn't allow it, not with the way Arthur was right now. "But the war is too widespread, there are no centers or headquarters for the armies, barely any political entities...for once, this isn't just kings versus kings, but people versus people...and those wars are a lot harder to stop single handedly."

Arthur bit his lip, but nodded, shutting his eyes with a slightly pained look as he leaned into Merlin's shoulder, unhappy with his inability to help.

"So," Lancelot said. "Pict territory - no. We need to aim for Strathclyde - the Picts are ignoring it, it's safe from Cendred's influence..." He paused, then sighed. "We would still have to go through Northumbria...well, Cendred isn't being too thorough - if we stick to the coast...not as risky, no where near it. But I'm not seeing a way around it, otherwise."

"Well, it's just Arthur's identification we need to worry about, so maybe a disguise-"

"I do."

Merlin and Lancelot's heads snapped up to face Arthur, who pushed himself off Merlin to lean against the table with the map, swaying dangerously with the rocking motion of the boat. "I see a way around all this."

They gave him an expectant look. "Eire."

"...you mean, travel through Eire?" Lancelot asked.

"Yes," Arthur said.

"I...I don't know much of their politics, or wars," Lancelot muttered.

"We don't have to decide immediately," Merlin said. "We're going to have to get to the lower borders of North Fortriu either way, and probably across the southern edge to Applecross - we can find some more maps and information there and figure it out as we go along.

"Right, so," Lancelot said. "Land at Thurso, southeast to Wick, keep going south along the coast until Strathpeffer, then west to Applecross."

With that decided, they quickly rolled and folded up the maps and packed them away before anyone else saw them and tried to steal them.

* * *

Arthur was speculative, later that evening, as he looked into the satchel of parchments and vellums in Merlin's bag.

"What _is_ all this?" he asked. "All maps?"

"Maps, charts, notes, things like that," Merlin said. "Trying to find one person among slavers' crop is tricky business, especially so during wartime. On the bright side, lots of notes on medicine and magic, too, along with happenings across the land - information is an useful commodity, nowadays."

"But how could you afford all this?" Arthur asked.

"...I didn't," Merlin said. "I can copy things magically, anything - that's how I made that false seal for Lancelot. I just get the blank papers or whatever, put the original next to it...I don't even have to read it to copy it."

Arthur's eyes widened as he looked through everything Merlin had. "This is...Merlin, if you were to utilize this, you could make a small fortune."

Merlin shrugged. "I've done that every now and then for money, when I had to. But I was too focused on finding you to care much about all this."

Arthur looked around - they were beneath the deck, and their little corner was curtained off like everyone else's. Lancelot was in his hammock, their things all piled into the one below his. Arthur was in his, and Merlin was in the one below him.

Climbing down to sit by Merlin, Arthur spilled out the contents of the bag across their laps, unrolling and unfolding everything. There were maps of every kingdom in Albion, often more than one, and charts dictating various trade and tax routes, and crop and artisan rotations, and political situations, maps detailing fiefs, cities, and land marks, and notes and notes on slavers' paths and names of different towns and inns with trading posts or good inns or food that Merlin has come across, and rolls of parchments with medicine and spells and news and directions and astrology and cartography and magic and...and...

"You did all this to find me?" Arthur asked, looking at the wealth of information. Some people might spend years, decades, getting information like this. Merlin has managed it in barely six months. "Me?"

Merlin's heart wrenched at the broken sound of Arthur's voice. "Of course I did!" He reached over and tilted Arthur's head to face him. The confusion in his eyes was twisted something deep inside Merlin's chest, and made him wrap his arms around Arthur and pull him close in a tight hug he just couldn't help. Arthur pressed his forehead against Merlin's neck as Merlin cradled Arthur's head with his hand. "I would have spent my life searching for you if that's what it took. I wasn't going to leave you with them."

"Thank you," Arthur said in an unsteady voice. "I...I thought I was going to die in there...I even-"

Arthur cut himself off with a choked sound, and Merlin soothingly rubbed his hand up and down Arthur's back.

"I will never leave your side, not if I have anything to say about it," Merlin said. Arthur nodded, and Merlin hoped he believed it, sincerely. "Like I said, you're stuck with me."

"...I suppose if you haven't left by now, nothing will," Arthur mumbled into the skin of Merlin's shoulder.

Pressing his lips against Arthur's forehead, Merlin said, "Exactly."

Merlin had to spell the bag and all the maps into the hammock above him and Arthur. He didn't know how long they stayed like that, but it was well into the night, that much he knew. Arthur started drifting off, and slowly lay down in the hammock, pulling Merlin with him.

He wanted to ask if Arthur was truly all right with this, but Arthur looked about ready to shatter, and Merlin wasn't so sure what asking him would do. Instead, he pulled Arthur close with promises to guard his sleep, and Arthur, satisfied with Merlin's word, finally drifted off, head pillowed on Merlin's shoulder and eyes fluttering shut on his vision of Merlin's face.

* * *

**Comments are love. :D**


	4. Chapter 04

**Journey Through a Broken Soul, Chapter 04**

**

* * *

**They landed in Thurso in just three days.

Merlin collapsed from wobbly legs as soon as he stood on land, and kissed the blessedly stable ground again, anyway.

Lancelot was biting back his laughter. Arthur wasn't even bothering, and Merlin had never minded making a fool of himself when it made Arthur laugh.

Merlin hadn't heard that laugh in ten months. Oh, how he missed it. Lancelot was grinning as Arthur leaned against the horse in the force of his laughter.

Merlin wondered how long it has been since Arthur laughed, and immediately pushed that thought away before his mind could wander down that maudlin trail of thought.

Helping Merlin stand up and stay steady, Lancelot said, "Let's go look for an inn or someplace to stay."

With Merlin and Arthur leaning against Hengroen and Lancelot leading the way, they headed into the town.

"Let's try not to do that again," Merlin said.

"It was just the rough water," Arthur promised. "It's not usually that bad."

"It better not be," Merlin grumbled.

Up ahead, Lancelot finally caved in and laughed.

* * *

They found a relatively cheap inn to stay in, a room with two beds, and they got it for free anyway when Merlin redid the entire ledger and account books for the owner.

"This is...surprisingly useful of...of magic," Arthur said, when Merlin had told them the news. "I never thought..."

"Magic is just a force, it's the user that decides good or evil," Merlin said. "And I'm not fond of evil, so..."

"You're _incapable_ of it," Arthur said.

Merlin smiled, and took dinner from the owner's wife when she brought up the tray.

"We should probably be planning our way on," Lancelot said.

"...that can wait until tomorrow, right?" Merlin asked. "Let's just relax for tonight."

"You're just sick, still," Arthur muttered, but he appeared to be on Merlin's side.

Lancelot laughed. "Tomorrow it is, then."

They ultimately had an early night in. Lancelot went to check on their horses one last time, and Merlin laid Arthur down to bed.

"I'm not a child," he insisted as Merlin started tucking him in. He pushed the blanket back and pulled on Merlin's wrist. "You're not sleeping on the floor! I..."

Merlin paused.

"...I feel...better, with you," Arthur said. He swallowed, apparently his pride from the look on his face, and said, "I feel safer with you right next to me."

Merlin relented and slipped into bed beside Arthur, letting Arthur press in close, seeking the comfort of Merlin's body.

"...go to sleep," Merlin said, as he magicked the bedcovers over them.

Arthur nodded, and using Merlin's chest as a convenient pillow, he slowly drifted off. Merlin smiled once he heard the semi-hitches in Arthur's breath - if he were lying on his back, he would be snoring.

Lancelot came in, and smiled at the sight of them.

"You really do take marvelous care of him, Merlin," Lancelot said. "I can't imagine him without you."

"I don't _want_ to imagine him without me," Merlin said. "Just look at what happened the last ten months..."

Lancelot nodded, climbing into his own bed. "Well, we're here now. All we can do his help him."

"Yeah..."

"Goodnight, Merlin."

"Goodnight, Lancelot."

Lancelot tucked himself in as Merlin spelled out the candled, before he turned his head and murmured softly into his prince's hair,

"Goodnight, Arthur. Sweet dreams."

* * *

In the end, they opted to stick to their original plan: Wick, Strathpeffer, Apple Cross, then slip into Dal Riata. From there, they'd either continue South into Northumbria or go West to Eire. Arthur had to bite his lip to keep in his amusement at Merlin's disappointment at the lack of proper maps of the country. They were starting to seem to be an obsession of his...

"I just don't know what Eire's like, I can't guarantee your safety," Lancelot said when Arthur brought it up again.

"Let's just focus on getting to Applecross and Dal Riata, first," Merlin insisted. "We can figure them out from there." He turned to Arthur. "Have you ever met any of the Irish Royalty?"

"No," Arthur said. "Father abhors them - they are very content with magic, the Old Religion, and Druids are very much still a part of their kingdoms."

Merlin nodded, and for a moment Arthur had a sudden, bone-chilling thought - what if Merlin _liked_ a kingdom of magic? Liked it...and _stayed_?

Maybe Eire wasn't such a great idea, after all...but no, Merlin was loyal to him, always...right?

...right?

Oh, fuck, what had he done?

"Dal Riata is fairly neutral territory," Merlin said, forging onwards, oblivious to Arthur's newfound apprehension. "Eirenn, but a part of Albion."

"And it's coastal areas probably will be isolated from the Picts' war," Lancelot said.

And will be a place teeming with Druids and magic, a place where he would stand out and Merlin would _fit in_.

"You know, we could try going west directly," Merlin said. "Get to Lochinvar, get a boat to the Long Isles, go south along them and get another boat to Eire? It would save us the trouble of getting through Scetis."

"Yes, but if we go through Scetis, we will know more about the Picts, Eire, and everything else," Arthur said. "The more we know, the better."

He'd been cut off from the main reality of the world long enough. He needed to _know_ things, and soon.

He said as much when Merlin looked about ready to protest.

Merlin gave him a long, speculative look, before nodding and looking back down at the maps.

"I think we can safely take a shorter way through North Fortriu," Merlin said. "Just straight southwest, Thurso to Lairg, then there to Applecross."

Lancelot nodded, tracing his finger over the path again and again. "Perfect. Mostly isolated lands, easy to travel through, but enough towns to stop and resupply safely."

On one hand, this was a faster way to Camelot. On the other hand, this was a faster way to Eire.

Arthur nodded. Because...he wouldn't lose Merlin, not again. He'd find some way of making sure of it.

Merlin smiled as he put away the maps, before looking between Lancelot's horse, Concorde, and Arthur's, Hengroen.

"If we're going to be traveling this much, I think we'll need another horse," Merlin said.

"...can you get one?" Arthur asked.

Merlin smiled. "I have my ways."

"He got me this one," Lancelot said, vaguely gesturing towards his horse, Concorde.

"How?" Arthur asked.

"I repaired the owner's barn," Merlin said. "It was completely destroyed, from raiders and a storm. I practically just had to rebuild it."

"Yourself?" Arthur asked, surprised. "How long did that take?"

"Two days."

It would take two weeks to do that with an entire clan of men helping to build a barn, minimum. To even try single-handedly, and to do so in two days...

"How powerful are you, again?" Arthur asked.

"...I don't know, and I don't want to know," Merlin said.

* * *

This time, however, Merlin just planned to buy the horse.

"My father seriously gave you that?" he asked as Merlin counted out coins from a satchel. That wasn't exactly much gold for his father, but to just give it away, along with the sodding _horse_...

"I think he was hoping everyone was wrong, and that I would find you," Merlin said, once he had roughly the amount of coins he would need, and put away the rest in Hengroen's saddlebag. "That or he really just pitied me."

"...it's a lot to give for a search of a dead man," Arthur said, softly.

"It was nothing at all for a search for his son," Merlin said glibly. He suddenly reached over and clutched Arthur's hand in his own. "Come...come with me?"

Arthur blinked, confused.

"...I'm rather hesitant to let you out of my sight at this point," Merlin admitted sheepishly.

Arthur rolled his eyes and grumbled again, "I'm not a child!" But he went, anyway.

* * *

Thurso had a lively trading center, and it was easy enough to find a good horse dealer.

Arthur was actually starting to enjoy himself. He helped Merlin haggle the price for a young white mare, Llamrei, and they walked back slowly, idly, enjoying the sight of the lively town. Merlin didn't miss the way Arthur stayed close to him, never straying more than a foot or two away from his side, but he didn't mind it at all, simply brushing his arm against Arthur's often as they took a shortcut back to the inn through one of the town's hidden back streets.

However, this did result in him walking right into Arthur when Arthur abruptly stopped, staring at something in the distance, face white as a sheet.

"Arthur...?" he asked, hesitantly, before turning to see what Arthur was staring at, and stopping dead at the sight of a bunch of men shackled in a prisoner's caravan about a tenth-mile down the street.

For a moment, they stopped and stared, as did the occasional passerby.

"Arthur...Arthur, come on..." Merlin said, pulling at Arthur's arm. But Arthur wouldn't move.

"We have to help them," Arthur said hoarsely. "Please, we..."

Merlin paused, before eying the apparent cart owner carefully.

"I'll...I'll go find out if they were criminals or debtors-"

"It doesn't matter!" Arthur cried out, whirling around, distressed, to face Merlin. "They're...they...if they are criminals, then they should be punished by due law. But not like this!" He grabbed Merlin's arms desperately. "No one deserves this, _no one_...please, we have to..."

He gripped Merlin's arms tightly, and Merlin wondered if there would be bruises.

"Arthur...okay, okay...I will...hold on..."

Arthur turned around and focused on the cart as Merlin did so, and he heard Merlin hiss something in the Old Tongue, but nothing happened.

"The lock will unlock soon after it's dark, and all their shackles," Merlin said. "They can find their own way out and away, and at dark, that slaver will be asleep."

Arthur looked at the once-future slaves unhappily, but nodded.

This time, when Merlin dragged him along, he moved but he continued staring at the cage cart. Merlin eventually led Llamrei around to block Arthur's view, and he finally looked away.

Merlin got a bad feeling that he'd just gone down a terribly wrong road.


	5. Chapter 05

**_Journey Through a Broken Soul - Chapter 4  
_**

* * *

Lancelot had finished packing the two horses, settled the monetary affairs with the innkeeper, and finished checking their routes on the map one last time while Merlin and Arthur were getting another horse.

He smiled when he saw them, and the rather nice horse Merlin was leading along, but frowned when he saw Arthur's subdued walked, and the way Merlin was keeping a worried, scrutinizing eye on Arthur.

"Let's go," Arthur said gruffly, mounting Hengroen and waiting, seemingly impatiently, for them.

"Arthur," Merlin said, turning to face Arthur's knee, before looking up at him. "I'm sorry, but not every-"

"Let's _go_," Arthur repeated.

"We can't save everyone!" Merlin cried out almost helplessly.

Arthur turned his steed away and started walking. "Are you coming or what?" he shouted back.

Merlin looked on helplessly, and Lancelot had to turn Merlin's head away and towards the new horse to get him to mount and join them.

"What happened?" Lancelot asked as soon as they were well on their way. Arthur was riding a few yards ahead, seeming only barely focused on the road ahead of him, his eyes seeing something else entirely.

"...on our way back from the market," Merlin said, shutting his eyes for a moment before opening them again. "We saw...a caravan full of men. They looked...they were obviously headed for a slave market."

Lancelot's blood ran cold at the thought of Arthur having to face that so soon after his rescue.

"How did..."

"He demanded we help them," Merlin said. "The first thing I said was that I wanted to find out first whether they were debtors or criminals...but he said it didn't matter, that they shouldn't be punished by slavery - that nobody should."

Lancelot nodded.

"So you...?"

"He wasn't too happy about what I'd done - enchanted the locks to unlock soon after dark, when the slaver would probably be asleep in the inn, and they could sneak off."

Lancelot looked at Merlin's guilty countenance carefully. "Did you really do it or-"

"Of course I did!" Merlin snapped. "I...I nearly _did_ just lie to him, but...I can't lie to him now, Lancelot, not after everything he's been through...but most of these slaves, they usually are criminals or debtors or something...I don't like it, but freeing them can be just as dangerous as not, and..."

He sighed. "And there's still the look on Arthur's face when he saw them. I swear, he looked like he thought he was _in_ it!"

"...maybe he was," Lancelot said. He was never exactly the philosophical type, but he could read people pretty well. "Maybe, in his mind, he was back in there again, and he had to free them, to free himself. He needed you to rescue him again...and your first reaction..."

Merlin's eyes widened in horror. "He thought I'd rejected him," he whispered, sounding like he was about to vomit at the thought.

Lancelot didn't respond, and Merlin appropriately took that as his meaning.

He shut his eyes and let out a short, small keen that sounded like it was coming out of a drowning pup rather than a tall human, before Merlin suddenly spurred his horse forward and pulled up beside Arthur.

Lancelot respectfully kept his distance.

He didn't hear what they were saying. But he did see frustration and anger on Arthur's face, and desperation on Merlin's. Merlin reached out several times to touch Arthur, but the prince jerked away.

Finally, Merlin said something that cause Arthur to still, only reacting when Hengroen started wandering off the road, and he turned to stare at Merlin. Their slowing down led Lancelot to be caught up to them, enough so that he couldn't avoid _not_ listening to them.

"Merlin," Arthur said, breathing heavily in emotion alone. "That was _me_, in there!"

"No, you weren't-"

"It was, once," he said. "I was called everything from a thief to a murderer to a debtor to a debtor's _son_ as I was sold over and over again. Half those men didn't deserve it at all, and the other half probably only committed minor crimes, small infractions which don't merit spending the rest of one's life in enslaved!"

"Arthur-"

"_No!_" Arthur shouted. "Just _listen to me_, damnit!"

Lancelot looked around, and said, "Perhaps we should get off the road for this - there will be wagons soon as the market closes and the villagers bring their wares back home, around here."

All three nodded, pulling off, and Arthur thankfully actually used this time to compose his thoughts and himself. But the anger was still on his face when he turned to face Merlin again.

"I was _owned_, Merlin," Arthur said, hoarsely. "I was turned into a _thing_, barely an animal, if that, and treated worse than one. That's what would have awaited them, and for the _rest of their lives_, Merlin. For something stupid like stealing a loaf of bread, or for no reason at all."

"I...I'm sorry," Merlin said. "I didn't-"

"Well now you do," Arthur growled. "Just...next time, when I ask you to help, just one cart, just one batch of men...do it. That not only could've been me, that once _was_ me, and now that I'm in a position to get someone to help them, I'll be _damned_ if I let them continue on in this state!"

With that he abruptly pulled Hengroen back towards the road, and Merlin stood there for several moments on his horse, looking after Arthur with quiet sorrow in his face, his hand reaching out towards Arthur even as he stopped in the middle of the road, exuding impatience without even looking back towards them.

"Come on, Merlin," Lancelot said, one step away from just taking the horse's reins, himself. "We can talk it out, tonight."

"...he won't want to," Merlin said mournfully.

"Then tomorrow night," Lancelot said. "We have plenty of time. For now, we should simply focus on riding forward to Lairg."

Merlin nodded dimly, shutting his eyes one more time, taking a deep breath. Lancelot got the feeling Merlin was trying to rein in his tears.

"You never told me the horse's name, by the way," he said, trying to slowly edge Merlin away from the melancholy trail of thought he was prone to in gloomy moods.

"Llamrei," Merlin said quietly, before spurring his horse on forward, after Arthur.

Lancelot sighed as he looked after the two men. Merlin had told him the things he'd done in Camelot since his last departure from rescuing Gwen. He'd told him how (he thought) Arthur's capture was his fault. And all the things, many terrible things, he'd done in his search for his prince.

Merlin was going to spend this trip caring for Arthur, Lancelot got the feeling he was going to have to help care for Merlin...or help Arthur to do so, because he knows of the bond they share. If anyone is going to help them, it will have to be the other man, himself.

Shaking his head at the task he had before of him, Lancelot spurred his own horse forward, and followed after the two broken men ahead.

* * *

That night, Arthur was silent as they bedded down. Merlin tried desperately to talk to him, but Arthur would reply with only the curtest of words before turning away, if he answered at all. In the end, Merlin gave up and simply sat on his bedroll with his piece of bread and cheese, and stared into the fire as Arthur shifted underneath his blankets.

The silence was tense, until Merlin finally couldn't take it anymore, and crawled over to crouch by Arthur's side, even as Arthur turned away, his back to Merlin as he burrowed under his covers. "I'm sorry," Merlin pleaded. "I didn't...I don't..."

"You didn't think, I know," Arthur said without turning to face Merlin. "No one does. No one ever _did_. That's the most horrifying part. No one ever _thought_ for us."

Merlin sighed, and reached out, tentatively touching Arthur's shoulder. Arthur jerked away, and Merlin pulled his hand back sharply. Right.

"...I couldn't leave them to that," Arthur said. "Right now...I want to go back and free every slave and end every slave market from here to Orkney! The only thing that's stopping me is that I _can't_ and that I...I need to get back to Camelot."

Merlin sighed. Vaguely, he wondered if slavery would become for Arthur what magic has become for Uther. At least Arthur's goal would apparently involve saving innocent people and killing guilty ones, rather than just killing everyone.

"We can't help everyone, Arthur," Merlin said.

"But what's to stop us from trying?" Arthur demanded, suddenly shooting up, propping himself up on one arm to turn and face Merlin.

Despite the anger on Arthur's face that Merlin knew was directed at him, Merlin couldn't help but also feel a tiny surge of joy somewhere deep in his heart at the familiar righteousness in Arthur's eyes.

"What's the point if we don't _try_?" Arthur begged.

Merlin bit his lip. "We...we make small sacrifices today so we don't have to make big ones tomorrow."

Arthur stared at him for a long while, before abruptly dropping onto his roll, then crying out when his ribs absorbed that shock, curling up and whimpering in pain.

After waving off a concerned-Lancelot, Merlin managed to at least get Arthur to uncurl enough to lift up the shirt and check the bandages. No bleeding, and while Arthur hissed at Merlin's prodding, he didn't seem to have exacerbated any damage to the ribs.

"...I'm sorry..." Merlin said finally, as he pulled down the shirt.

Arthur laughed, dry and joyless.

"It's not like you...you have any control of..." Arthur blinked, as if unsure of himself, before shaking his head.

Merlin ran his hands over the bandages like he did every night, and murmured a slow healing spell, with Arthur fidgeting under the waves of magic but accepting it. Merlin wondered if it was because he trusted Merlin, or if he had simply been that broken from his original capture.

"There," Merlin said.

"Can't you just heal them _now_?" Arthur asked. "You healed Lance's scraped arm in seconds! It would've taken a week on its own! Can't you do that for my ribs?"

"...yes," Merlin said. "But I would have to knock you unconscious for two days, likely, just from the pain of the healing itself and the aftermath, not to mention the drain on your body's natural energy. And your ribs might not be as strong. Besides, this is still months of healing reduced to less than two weeks!"

Arthur sighed and nodded, before turning on his side and curling up again. Arthur never used to curl up, before.

Merlin reached out to touch Arthur's shoulder one more time.

Arthur tensed up and pulled away.

Merlin crawled back over to his own bedroll and went to sleep.

* * *

Merlin was already awake, having woken up and been unable to go back to sleep, when Arthur started moving in his sleep.

It took him a few moments to notice it, but once he did, he found he couldn't focus on anything else. Arthur was shifting, restless in his dream. The blankets were tangled in his legs, and a moment later, Arthur was moaning in his sleep.

Merlin was up instantly, crawling to Arthur's side, a fierce protectiveness burning in his heart, and with it, a frustrated, helpless rage at Arthur's nightmares.

Arthur started jerking in his sleep, breathing uneven and erratic, his eyes scrunched shut in fear. Surging forward without much thinking, Merlin crouched and wrapped his arms around Arthur, pulling their bodies close.

The effect was startlingly immediate - Arthur calmed down almost instantly.

Sitting more properly, Merlin laid Arthur down so his head was in Merlin's lap, and Merlin was stroking Arthur's hair, like old times, as he stifled an irrational urge to just lash out, no target available for fighting Arthur's night terrors.

After a while, a long while, Arthur slowly groaned awake. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked up at Merlin with such panic in his eyes, Merlin could swear he felt it in himself.

"Merlin?" he asked, voice small and terrified, and Merlin only tugged Arthur up and close again, wrapping his arms around him.

And they were curled up around each other, Arthur sobbing the fear away, and Merlin uttering sweet, meaningless nonsense into Arthur's ears as they rocked in the wake of their trampled hearts.

"Shh...it's okay...I'm here, now...you're free, now-"

"I'm not-I wasn't...it was...they had me...I just..._make it stop_!"

"You're safe, now."

"_Please_, please, please, just _make it go away_, make it stop, make it stop, make it stop..."

And so on.

Eventually, they stilled, save for Arthur's trembling and Merlin's soothing gestures.

Merlin stayed up that night. Even when Arthur went to sleep, he stayed, never stopping his gentler rubbing motions on Arthur's back, never stilling his lips, pressed against Arthur's forehead as he muttered reassurances throughout the night.

The helpless rage rose again and again in his heart every time Arthur started shifting in his sleep, distressed and agitated. Merlin would _shh_ lowly and calmly and bring Arthur back to a soothing, gentle sleep, each and every time. He rocked back and forth, holding Arthur close to him, mumbling low nonsense in his ear.

By morning, he was exhausted. But Arthur was calm and safe and well-rested, and that was worth it.

* * *

Arthur slowly blinked awake (again), and Merlin smiled as he looked up at him.

"You look terrible," he said bluntly.

Merlin laughed.

* * *

"You shouldn't have stayed up all night," Arthur said over breakfast.

"I understand you care, Merlin, but he is right," Lancelot chipped in.

Merlin sighed, scrubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand.

"I value Arthur's sleep more than my own - I can go for a while yet."

This time, Lancelot shared his worried glance with Arthur as the three mounted their horses.

Lancelot shook his head to himself as they set off again. Even though Arthur hadn't completely forgiven Merlin, yet, he still cared for his man.

He just hoped they could sort this all out soon. They had a long journey ahead of them, and anger grew in the most horrible of ways when left to fester in a person's heart - especially in the hearts as large as those of men like Merlin and Arthur.

This was going to be a long, long journey.

* * *

**Comments make me happy, so click that review button! You know you want to. ;)**


	6. Chapter 06

**_Journey Through a Broken Soul - Chapter 06  
_**

* * *

**A/N:** Because I couldn't update Beside Me, I bring you this instead.

As of now, this is an AU of Merlin. I imagine that it takes place post-S3, with the exception of changes to Episode 313. The change is basically just the very last scene. In canon, it's shown that though they are commoners the four new knights were accepted into the knighthood. Here, I'm imagining that Uther still didn't allow it, so the men left to wait for Arthur to become king.

* * *

**Unbeta'd, due to extreme lack of patience. If you see any mistakes, feel free to tell me. :)  
**

* * *

Merlin was tired.

Arthur could easily see his exhaustion, yet Merlin refused to stop at all. Even when Arthur and Lancelot did some strength training while they gave their horses a break, Merlin was too wired, keeping careful eyes on Arthur as he slowly fought towards his strength.

By nightfall, he was practically falling out of his saddle, and Lancelot had told Arthur to sit and shoved Merlin into his arms after the wizard nearly collapsed upon casting protective wards around their campsite.

Merlin slumped into his arms, eyelids dropping, before he looked up at Arthur.

"I can help," he insisted.

"Sleep, damn you," he murmured, pulling Merlin close to him like Merlin had done for him the night before.

Merlin...Merlin rescued him. Those men in the cart weren't Arthur, and it was still worrying that Merlin would have left them behind, but they weren't _him_. Merlin rescued him.

That was going to take some getting used to. With a sigh, Arthur pulled Merlin close. They could deal with this when they were well rested again.

* * *

Merlin dozed fitfully, somehow too tired to sleep.

The other two men noticed, if their worried glances were anything to go by, and Arthur insisted that Merlin bed with him.

"I'm not a baby," Merlin grumbled as Arthur pulled him down and tucked him inside the confines of the bedroll.

"Being taken care of does not mean being a baby," Lancelot said from where he was rested just to Merlin's other side, only a half-foot away.

"Please, Merlin," Arthur pleaded, pulling Merlin close to him, and how was Merlin supposed to resist that?

* * *

Oh, right.

* * *

Merlin ended up only sleeping for a few hours, as Arthur shifted in his agitated sleep, and Merlin was a light sleeper, ever since he set out on this journey.

It was with an exhausted voice but alert hands that he soothed Arthur's sleep before Arthur relaxed into sleep again.

Merlin didn't sleep for the rest of the night, watching over Arthur, keeping vigil now for his failure to do so before. For allowing Arthur to be captured, and for allowing Arthur to be brought to this. For failing with that slave caravan in Thurso. For...

He felt hot tears trickle across his nose, face, and eyes as he cried while holding onto Arthur, laying down. But he didn't shut his eyes, just shifted to wipe at his face with the corner of his blanket.

He would not fail Arthur again.

* * *

"You didn't sleep," Arthur accused when Merlin woke up.

Merlin just sighed.

"You were having nightmares."

"_All night_?" he demanded.

"I made sure you didn't have any more," Merlin said.

Arthur looked about ready to burst out shouting in anger when Lancelot, looking between them apprehensively, cut in with. "I think we should deal with this a little later."

"_When_, then?" Arthur demanded.

Merlin sighed. "I'll be fine," he insisted, and started to push himself up.

Arthur pushed him down as he pushed his own body up.

"Stay," Arthur ordered, his voice so much like his old self that a flash of nostalgia made Merlin's eyes damp with fond memory. Arthur didn't notice this as he tugged on his cloak around him. "Sleep at least a little bit before we move on."

Merlin wanted to fight that, but the fact he had no energy to said enough to him, and so he leaned back and opted for the nap, instead.

He felt marginally refreshed when they finally left.

* * *

However, he still nearly fell out of his saddle, that afternoon, when they stopped, and completely dropped off to sleep as Arthur and Lancelot started training with each other. That night, after Merlin woke for dinner, Arthur refused to go to sleep until Merlin did, putting his bedroll on the other side of the fire and shoving Lancelot's between them.

"I won't be the reason you get no sleep," he said curtly, sitting up and watching Merlin.

Merlin, exhausted, just nodded, flopped over, and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

Merlin still woke up when Arthur had nightmares again. He used to wake up on the other side of a castle when Arthur had nightmares, a mere campfire was nothing. He crawled over to Arthur's side, the bedroll following him when he magicked it to, and pulled himself close to Arthur.

This time, though, when Arthur calmed, he went back to sleep, his arms wrapped around Arthur, his head pillowed on the prince's chest. Maybe now, at least, Arthur would feel Merlin's presence in his sleep and have no nightmares.

Merlin pressed a gentle kiss to Arthur's shoulder as he dozed off, tugging Arthur as close to him as possible, until he forgot where one of them ended and the other began.

* * *

"Wha...?" Arthur looked down himself, then turned over, confused to feel another body against his, but smiled wryly when he saw Merlin there.

He looked up to see Lancelot shaking his head in amusement as he also woke, and heard Lancelot say, "Sleep for a few more minutes, I'll make breakfast."

So Arthur turned around and wrapped his arms around Merlin, pulling him close, pressing Merlin's face against his throat, his hand cradling Merlin's head and neck - like old times again, when this wasn't just because Arthur wanted to protect Merlin, but because he could and did protect Merlin.

(Though in retrospect and in light of Merlin's magic - which they should probably talk about but Arthur really, really, really, really didn't want to - Merlin was probably protecting him a lot more than Arthur knew. And Arthur didn't want to know, except that he did.)

* * *

Merlin woke up slowly, shifting in Arthur's arms and look up to see him, smiling.

"You must've slept terribly without me for the last year," Arthur murmured, carding his fingers through Merlin's rough, familiar hair. He missed Merlin's hair over the ten months of his captivity. He missed _Merlin_ over the last few _days_.

Merlin nodded, slowly pushing himself up to see Lancelot, making breakfast over the fire, watching them amusedly.

"I'm starting to see why Gwen has a bad habit of comparing you two to a large variety of cute, cuddly animals," Lancelot said.

"She does not!" Arthur said in mock-horror. Beside him, Merlin just laughed, oblivious to Arthur's glare.

Good, he was still his old Merlin, then. The one he knew and loved and hoped could make everything all right, again.

* * *

When Lancelot rode ahead and Merlin fell behind so he was right next to Arthur, he knew Merlin wanted to talk. Seriously, deeply, in a way they should have talked earlier but never managed to.

"I'm sorry," Merlin said. "About that cart of men, not freeing them."

Arthur's face fell from the somewhat-content expression he'd had, and he turned his gaze to the road.

"...Lancelot explained," Merlin said, hesitantly, like he was not sure how to say what he was saying. "That...it was like you were in the cart, again, and you might have felt I was rejecting you or something by not saving you, and you have to believe me, Arthur, I would never leave you behind-"

"It's not about me!"

How could Merlin be so wise half the time and so blind the other half?

As Merlin looked at him confusedly, he said, "Yes, fine, those men were me - men who had lied and stolen and killed to protect themselves and their homes and their families, not out of greed but desperation! Or men who did no crime at all, except being in the wrong place at the wrong time. This isn't about me, at least not just me - this is about doing the right thing!"

Merlin fell silent, then, "I'm only interested in you-"

"Then you're of no use to me!"

Arthur wondered if he'd gone mad, saying that, especially to Merlin's face, but if what Merlin said was true, then what he had just said was true, as well.

Beneath him, Hengroen was getting agitated, and Arthur forcibly calmed himself, patting Hengroen's shoulder gently but firmly as he did so, resting his hand on Hengroen's warm shoulder for a moment before looking back at Merlin.

"If I am going to be king, one day-"

"_When_," Merlin said vehemently, with a force that appeared to startle Merlin as much as it startled Arthur. "_When_ you are king, one day."

It was not as simple as this, it was much more debatable, but now was not the time.

"Fine, _when_ I am king, one day - I am to look out for my people, care for my people...how can I do that if one of the most powerful friends I have has no interest except in _me_?"

"I care about you so you can care about everyone else," Merlin said. "I protect you so you can protect everyone else. I..." Here, Merlin looked down at his saddle, face drawn. "I love you so you can love everyone else."

_I love you._

I love you.

...so you can love everyone else.

"It doesn't work like that, Merlin,' he said softly. "I love you, too - and we both need to love the people who we protect."

Merlin's head snapped up, and Arthur asked, "Did you ever, _ever_, truly believe I didn't love you?"

"I...no."

"Then what made you think it could work like this?" he asked, feeling a bit closer to being a prince with every word. "What made you so dead set on this view of me?"

Merlin slowly looked away.

"I tried to protect everyone, Arthur," Merlin said. "I couldn't. People die, and if I'm the one that tried to help them, that makes them my responsibility, and my fault that they died. I can't do that - I have to focus on just you. So long as I focus on you, and protect you, I'm doing my job and I'm doing it right."

"Merlin, this is the real world," he said, spurring Hengroen on slightly when he realized they were falling well behind Lancelot. "Whatever you try to do, you will have some success, and some failure. Even if you devote your life to protecting me, one day, I will die."

Merlin shut his eyes momentarily, the thought apparently too hard for himself to bear, before focusing on Llamrei again, and his path.

"How do you do it?" he asked. "Watch people die as you were supposed to protect them?"

That stinging reminder of his own past failures as a prince bit hard, but Arthur had dealt with them long ago.

"By continuing on," Arthur said. "Their lives would have been lost in vain if I had not learned from it and used what I know to help others. I saved more lives to make up for the ones I lost - it is a debt that can never be filled, but I was worth nothing if I did not try."

Merlin was silent after that, and Arthur rode ahead to Lancelot's side.

"We will reach Wick by nightfall," Lancelot said quietly. "And Merlin - he tries."

"He needs to accept that he can and will fail in the process," Arthur said stiffly, a distant memory of his father echoing similar words rising to the surface of his thoughts. "If he devotes his life to me, that's...unnerving, and unhealthy, but fine. If he devotes his life to me to the exclusion of everyone else...then it's...he might as well be a - _I_ might as well be a monster - because what would that mean for the people?"

Lancelot sighed. "Merlin just...he needs direction. He how to do things, but _what_ to do doesn't always come to easily to him."

Arthur nodded, letting this sink in.

Merlin may be his, but in order for this to work, in order them to return to Camelot with their heads held high so Arthur could one day be king (if, if if if...), he would need to be Merlin's, as well. He would need to let Merlin protect him, and he would need to protect Merlin - including protect him from himself.

But first, he had to become something worthy of Merlin's protection. And that might just end up being the hard part.

* * *

Wick was a port town, and considering how late at night it was, they got rooms in an inn at the edge of the town with little fanfare, not even stopping to take a look around the town. Arthur got them a room with two beds, while Merlin got dinner and Lancelot took care of the horses and their things.

They took their bowls of stew - a little watery, but heavy on fish and vegetables - in their room. Arthur and Merlin were silent, letting Lancelot idly talk of his adventures from the last time they saw him, in Hengist's stronghold, to when Lancelot had met Merlin the first time on his journey, before he saw Arthur and sought out Merlin. Ranging from slaying small monsters to helping builds barns, Lancelot had certainly kept himself busy.

"You two need to talk," was all he said, before he collected a money pouch and stepped aside with half-arsed excuses about returning the bowls to the innkeeper and going out to replace whatever supplies needed replacing.

He left the awkward silence behind, Arthur and Merlin sitting side by side on their bed, close but not touching, both staring at the small table and the candle burning down upon it.

"You said I was no use to you if I only focused on you," Merlin said, looking at where their knees almost brushed. "But what use am I to you if you are dead?"

"Merlin," Arthur said, reaching out and grabbing Merlin's hand. "I don't want you to let me _die_ - I just want you to care about others, too. I...once upon a time, you wouldn't have hesitated to free a cart of slaves, even on the chance they were criminals. I don't like where I'm seeing you go."

"I've had too many of those people I've helped turn on me," Merlin said. "Or I've had to turn on them to protect your life. I've seen...people change, Arthur."

"You weren't the jaded, bitter one - you were never meant to be," Arthur said. "That's supposed to be my job."

"Your job is to be idealistic and demanding and put that into action and make it come to life, for the sake of your people," Merlin said. "My job is to stand in the background and protect you while rolling my eyes at you and calling you a clotpoll and being secretly proud of everything you do. Like I've always done."

Arthur sighed, then leaned his head against Merlin's shoulder. Merlin switched hands holding Arthur's hand, so the now free one could creep up Arthur's back and curl around his head comfortingly, protectively. "Merlin," Arthur said, almost a mumble. "I don't...I don't want to lose you, I don't want to lose my Merlin, the one who cares about everyone and supports me as I help them."

"I _do_, Arthur," Merlin said. "But in Camelot, your rank protects you, your status as prince. You have resources and strength in weapons and men that is unparalleled in and often even out of the kingdom. Here...we are three lone, good-hearted men."

"You're a powerful sorcerer-"

"-and you're a powerful knight," Merlin said. "But it is your power as a _prince_, and a future king, that makes things possible, and it is my job protecting not just any good man, but the good man who runs the kingdom. I want to help everyone, Arthur, I want us to do that like we helped Ealdor and the city and...everyone."

"We took out an entire raiding party in Ealdor, just you, me, Morgana, and Gwen," Arthur said. "Just the four of us. Why couldn't we help the men in the cart?"

"Because it's more than just a raiding party. These slavers, they have strong and powerful networks and connections, and can quickly rise together - they know that all it takes is a little hope in their victims to become the spark for an uprising, and they will work together to stop anything from happening. They have the law on their side - the nobles up here, they see these slaves as chattel to be used for more money and more power. Maybe one day we can come back with dozens of knights or soldiers, standing under no banner or colors and riding on their own honor and respect for people as human beings...but not today, not now, not when these slavers not only outnumber us too much for us to handle, but have the power to make sure we can't ever come back and truly help them."

Arthur was trembling by the time Merlin finished.

"If I find a way to help them, I will - but out in the middle of a street where anyone can see us, freeing so many men all at once? That was suicide, Arthur, and I'm not going to risk you for that."

He pulled Arthur close and whispered, "You matter too much to me, Camelot, and Albion for that."

Arthur sobbed once against Merlin's neck where his face was buried, before saying hoarsely and thickly, "I need to be worth it, for you and Camelot and Albion...and you won't let me. I have to try, Merlin - if I pick and choose, I am no better than my father in his madness, or Cenred ignoring his people, or any other king who cares little for the people who depend on them."

Merlin shifted as Arthur did, bring his head up so his lips were close to Merlin's ear when he whispered, almost afraid, "I need to be a good man to be a good prince and a good king...and you need to let me."

Shutting his eyes tight, too many fatal situations they've barely escaped out of rushing through Merlin's mind's eye, he said, "I'll try."

"No!" Arthur said, almost pushing himself away, far enough to look earnestly into Merlin's eyes. "Not try, do - I would rather die than-"

"Don't say that!" Merlin cried out, pulling Arthur close again. "Don't you dare say that - I'm not letting you die, never."

"One day, it'll be beyond you, Merlin."

"And I intend for that day to be a long way off."

"Then what am I supposed to do in the mean time? I must help my people, Merlin. Whether in my kingdom or not, if I can help them, then they are my people and my responsibility. You said so, yourself - if you could help someone and they died, then they are your responsibility. The same goes true for me, Merlin, but it will not end with one person to whom I can devote my life - that is my father's domain, not mine. And I don't want it to be yours."

The implication of ending up like Uther punched hard, and Merlin sucked in a sharp breath.

"I won't let you go and I will make you a great man and king," Merlin said. "You'll see."

"You have to let me go, Merlin - how else am I supposed to come back to you?"

Merlin didn't know.

They spoke no more, souls too weary to go any further. Merlin tucked them both into bed, and they simply held onto each other's trembling forms, until eventually, they dropped off into exhausted sleep. Maybe the next morning or some other time, they could talk - but tonight, they would rest.

* * *

"Merlin..._Merlin...Merlin!_ Wake up!"

Merlin frowned as someone shook his shoulder and hissed in his ear, and turned his head to see a frightened-looking Lancelot above him. Upon meeting his eyes, Lancelot brought a finger to his lips and a firm hand to Merlin's shoulder. "Don't let Arthur wake," he whispered.

Frown growing deeper, Merlin carefully disentangled himself and pushed himself up to face Lancelot.

And up enough to see that it was much, much later since he and Arthur had fallen asleep. The candle, which had been barely half-way burned through when they went to sleep, was now completely melted over, and...he frowned, noticing several packages dumped on Lancelot's bed.

"Did you...why did you already get the supplies we needed?" Merlin asked.

"Because we have to get out of Wick as fast as we can tomorrow morning," Lancelot said softly, crouching by the bed. "I was going through the town, Merlin, and...there are carts of men, women, even a few children, all over the place, in cages. Armed men everywhere guarding them carefully, torches, and what must be miles of chains."

Merlin sucked in a breath as Lancelot said, "This is a slavers' town, Merlin - this port town's biggest trade is in slaves. With the way Arthur was with one cart of men...we have to leave immediately in the morning, before he can get...before he sees too clearly, or tries to do anything. I've gotten everything we need, found a new map and a new route, everything - tomorrow we can just eat and leave before anything bad happens."

Merlin nodded. "Thank...thank you. I don't know what Arthur would have done if..." He shook his head. "See if you can ask the inn keeper to wake us early-"

"Already done - his daughter will fetch us before she goes out to milk the cows and collect eggs. By the time we are washed and ready, breakfast will be served downstairs - we can grab a quick meal and run."

"Good," Merlin said, shaking his head to himself. "Damnit - next time, we should find a way to ask about the town before we get there." He looked to Arthur. "I hate lying to him, but..."

"He will be rash and reckless, and hurt himself," Lancelot said, nodding in understanding. "He has improved quite a bit with his sword work and is much stronger than before, but that's not saying much - he is still very weak and very injured. I've packed up everything, the horses already have their blankets for the saddles tomorrow - we can be out of the town by just after dawn."

Merlin nodded once, and lay down, murmuring, "Goodnight, Lancelot," as he turned and pulled a sleeping Arthur into his arms.

He kissed the back of Arthur's head as he settled in, mostly for his own comfort than Arthur's, before settling in for an uneasy sleep.

He hoped tomorrow, they could leave early and prevent anything from happening - this was the last thing Arthur needed.

* * *

...which, of course, meant that this was the very thing Arthur ran headlong into. And they definitely did not leave early, not at all. Stupid, noble, honor-driven prat.

The man was going to be a great king, one day - assuming he didn't get himself killed by his own stupidity or his frustrated sorcerer, first. But Merlin could make no promises.

Especially when the prat insisted on starting a bloody rebellion and freeing all the slaves in the town and causing mayhem and-

They should have just taken breakfast in their room, that was for sure.

* * *

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